The Pooptrix
by LadyBow8
Summary: This is a parody of the Sesame Street characters involved in a Matrixesque story. The SS members are part of a gang, and their mission is to stop rivalry in the alternate dimension known as the Pooptrix. The Count and myself are main characters.
1. Chapter 1

THE POOPTRIX

A Tea Party Hell © Production

Jennifer tapped her pencil mindlessly onto the desk, causing several people nearby to glance over, annoyed, to see where the noise was coming from. She was indifferent to the reactions surrounding her, consumed in boredom, and no way out. Whatever. It's not like it mattered. In exactly one minute and thirty two seconds…thirty one…thirty…okay the point is- that in a short amount of time she was going to escape English class. Only problem was, this was only the beginning of her assigned torture.

The bell rang and everybody swarmed out of the class, though Jennifer lagged behind and looked stoned before turning the corner and heading for Life Sports. Ppppt. What a retarded class. Okay, well she was going to have to deal with it, and honestly, nobody gave a shit how Jennifer felt.

It wasn't that Mr. Cerny was a bad guy or anything…it's just…he…he didn't understand what it was like for kids who absolutely despised physical activity. Lets face it- some of us were meant to sit around on our asses, yet P.E. teachers are all known for being in denial about it. As usual, she didn't do the stretches, ignored the teacher's continuous pleas for her participation, and sauntered mindlessly across the shaded area of the track while the others jogged and chatted in the hot sun. She liked to look off to the side and eye the little stream outside the fence, while cans and various plastic wrappers floated down it to the sewers or got caught up in soggy leaves to the side. Her eyes mournfully averted further down her path to the bitchy girls walking some ten or twenty feet ahead, when suddenly she stopped, and listened to the gentle swaying of the trees. She was standing all alone…when…when she heard a rustle in the bushes and a stir in the grass. And no ordinary stir- that of a living being, for sure.

Her eyes wandered mindlessly through the brush. There were patches of shadowy dirt, and fresh evergreen leaves that stood thick in each direction, but she spotted a stout figure peering from a patch of golden branches.

When it was sure she'd noticed it, the desperation to hide faded away, and it took several steps through the greenery.

It was a puppet. And no ordinary puppet: the Count from Sesame Street. Her face fell before his eyes- she stood awestricken by the fence. His body was still, but the black cape over his shoulders flapped slightly in the wind. "Oh. Hello." She didn't say anything. Her startled eyes were transfixed on his fuzzy purple face. "What? Never seen a puppet before?"

"N…Not one standing up on its own and suddenly emerging from trees to scare the hell out of me."

"Okay um…that clearly wasn't my intention."

"Well then-"

"I was hiding." He interrupted.

"Why would you hide in some brush conveniently beside a high school track?" She asked skeptically.

"Well…listen to you asking me this question. Obviously, you weren't expecting it at all. And the point of hiding is to go somewhere where people can't find you."

"No, seriously. Why are you back there?"

"I'm not joking you!" He stated, a bit agitated, but quickly lost the tension in his forehead. He casually stepped towards the fence and caused a clinking noise as he clung to the sides with his short cotton fingers. "Look, I really was hiding. I have a very hectic lifestyle nowadays and I needed a break." She raised her eyebrow.

"What?"

"The guys and I aren't doing the show much as of last year. Sinking too deep into the wrong crowd. I was taking a walk down the side of the road when I came across an opening to the forest and decided to wander around for a while to think." Jennifer raised her eyebrow.

"O-kay…"

"So how's it going?" He asked, still standing behind the fence. The comment reminded Jennifer that she was, in fact, still in Life Sports, and the teacher might start wondering why she'd suddenly stopped to talk to a puppet hiding in the bushes.

"It's going- Wait a second. I can't be talking to you. I have class right now. I-I-I-I gotta go." The Count looked disheartened. His large sharp eyebrows fell dramatically.

"Wait." He softly voiced.

"_Whaaaaat!" _

"I just…I…well I get lonely out here." He voiced pitiably. Jennifer was about to head off when she stopped again, and the puppet took a few steps to stay parallel.

"I thought you had a bunch of friends. You know, Snuffleupagus and stuff?"

"Well…yes…but…they are not very nice to me."

"Uhm…but…you get along so well on the show."

"Yeah…yeah…television can do that." Jennifer did indeed feel bad for the Count, but she had to shrug it off.

"Well, I'm sorry. But…you know, I have to go and stuff. Maybe I'll…see you later or something."

"Okay…" The Count seemed caught up in whatever issues he was currently dealing with, so as he continued to saunter down the grass by the fence, she jogged off to join the group. Creepy puppet. In reality, she expected, and very much hoped she would never see him again.

Later

"I've had about enough of your excuses, Big Bird! A raspy voice screeched. "You've had us hanging by a thread for months now! Either you get your big fat feathery ass in gear by next weekend or the deal's off. Consider it a failure. There are asses on the line here- there are people dying! And all you do is drink booze, get high, and pester little children!" Big Bird was standing in the corner, clad in a bandana and sunglasses. He shook and looked discouraged by the remarks of the figure in the shadows, but after the brief pause, he cowered:

"I've tried! You don't understand! I-"

"Friday evenin'! I swear to God, If you don't bring us the chosen one we're gonna pop a cap though your enormous grill!" It smirked at him through dim light, and then hopped off towards the beaten down graffiti-ridden door, clanking each time the contraption in which it clung to landed in the cement floor. At that, Big Bird seemed ultimately defeated by the unknown malicious puppet that had just left, but a look of determination returned in his sturdy steps. He thudded down the hallway and ripped open a door, where inside, Bert, Ernie, and Grover were sprawled out over empty bottles and cigarette packs. They indifferently continued to watch Three's Company and pass the bong around, however Big Bird was ultimately exasperated.

"Helloooo!" Big Bird voiced with frustration, raising his arms and then tapping his foot. Grover casually turned to the large yellow canary with steam bursting from the top of his head.

"Oh, hello Big Bir-"

"Shut upppppp." Big Bird cut in. He stepped into the room with his hands on his hips, twisted his neck around to eye the startled housemates, his feathers swishing in the smoke-inhabited air. "Is this what we've become! Lousy gangster-wannabes who spend all day getting wasted? We have to stop this! You have to get up and get on with your lives!" Ernie was just about to take another swig of vodka when Big Bird smacked it the moment it met his lips, and it spilled over his striped sweater. "Are you aware that we had a mission!" Ernie looked disgruntled at this; he glared up to Big Bird for soaking his only shirt. Just then, Bert lifted a finger, his eyes curiously averting up to Big Bird's face.

"Wasn't it that thing about getting the special person and taking them to the-"

"Yeah. It was! And you all just forgot about it! There are people _starving_!" He pronounced each syllable carefully. "There are people begging for their lives! This is ridiculous!" Big Bird quickly jerked his head towards the window. "Where the hell is the Count!" They all stared at him wide-eyed. He left the room in a fit of rage, his fluffy tail bobbing up and down as he stomped back down the hardwood floors. As he turned the corner, he saw a black figure sitting at the bar, hunched over and pouring himself a shot-glass of tequila. Big Bird marched right up and smacked the glass out of his hand. It shattered into the wall, and the contents dripped down into the dirtied linoleum. The Count eyed him with outrage, but Big Bird continued the assault by snatching his wrist and dangling him up in the air. "Where have you been! I told you to get the groceries!" He shrieked.

"I…I…I…I forgot where the store is!" At that, Big Bird shook him like a rag doll.

"We've lived here for five years! How could you forget where the store was!" His grip tightened on the small purple wrist, so much that the Count got out a helpless shout of pain.

"Okay, okay! I didn't forget, I just went for a walk!" Big Bird shook him vigorously again.

"Why!" He practically screeched.

"Please! Let me go!" With this whiny bawl, Big Bird felt a pinch of sympathy, and decided to fling the Count into some boxes and coffee-ring covered magazines which served as the couch-side table. He laid still in the pile, cowering with his cape fallen over his vulnerable puppet body. "I just wanted to be freed from this house for one day! Not two or three or four! One day…" He shriveled up into the fetal position.

"What do you mean!" Big Bird roared.

"Your abuse!" He cried. Big Bird's face fell into a disgusted gaze as the Count continued to quaver.  
"Ahhhh come onnnn." The Count did not respond. "Don't be so dramatic!" Just then, he poked his head out defensively.

"I'm _not_ dramaticcccc!" At that, Big Bird could see visible tears streaming down his face, their paths obstructed by the little bits of fuzz that rose from his worn felt skin.   
"Oh God…listen. Tomorrow's your last chance to get the godamn chosen one, now take the books and the address on the counter, and be gone before we wake up tomorrow. Got it!" The Count sobbed a 'yes'. "Now stop whining like a 12-year-old girl and drink your tequila." Big Bird tossed the bottle far enough to land in the cushioning of his cape over the floor, and then sauntered off to join the others.

The Next Morning

He started up the sidewalk. It had been a long night, but now the sun had rose. His short legs paced swiftly through the chilly air, swishing past the flapping cape that fell down his shoulders. He dragged his black formal shoes over the concrete, causing bits of rubble to tumble in his path. All of this business caused him to mutter to himself and let out a heavy sigh.

It was easy to get up before the others did- they all slept until three or four in the afternoon anyway. Long ago, Big Bird had given him specific orders, and today they would have to be carried out. Otherwise, he would have his neck. He'd take away his share of the beer, and he knew how much he needed it to continue on nowadays. But damn…there had to be a different way to get what he wanted in life.

He turned the corner, glanced at the house before him, but steered himself away from the discontenting thoughts that began to swarm in his head the moment he saw it. But it just…It was nerve-wracking; never seeing this 'being' he was supposed to retrieve in his entire life but having to whisk them away the moment they answered the door… But finally, he reached the porch and knocked twice.

He could faintly hear the thuds as whoever it was came to answer the door and unexpectedly meet their destiny standing squarely on the porch that morning. He took a few more deep breaths, and then the door opened. He froze. She froze. The two froze with the intensity of a thousand ice sculptures. (Hehehohoho yeah, I know that sounds really funny and original.) "H-hi. How did you find my house?" She asked.

"Well…this makes things a little easier." The Count muttered.

"Makes what easier! Seriously! How did you find my house! I thought I was never going to see you again you creepy retard!"

"What! You told me that you…you…" She covered her mouth.

"I…I didn't mean that. But…but…I…what are you doing here!" She asked. The Count suddenly felt very discouraged…like she had hit a place in his already wounded heart…

"I have come here to take you somewhere. I think that it was very much fate that you and I met just yesterday. Please, step outside." He reluctantly spoke this, still feeling the ache of her harsh words. However, the girl was not very willing.

"Uh…no…no, I…" She clutched the door. "I'm getting ready for school right now. You'll have to come back…uh…later."

"No, no you must come right now." The Count insisted. Her brow lowered.

"Seriously. I would just love to go out and screw around with you right now but I have a half hour to get dressed and get my stuff packed up." She seemed like she really wanted to close the door, but still clutched it, ready at any moment to slam it when he had concluded his hopeless plea.

"Surely you could just step outside for a moment. I really must talk to you! I have come all this way just for a little chat, I promise." The Count pled. As a dramatic effect, he clutched his arms in the chilly air.

"A little chat about _what?_"

"I can't tell you near the house. I just need you to step out for a teensy little moment." He brought his index and thumb together and squinted his right eye, so much that the girl threw up her arms, exasperatedly.

"Allllll righttt." She stepped out on to the deck and closed the door behind her, and the two strolled down the steps and up the driveway, whereupon they stopped at the mailbox. She eyed the Count suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Well…I…" He twiddled his fingers a little and stared down to his feet.

"Hmmm?"

"Well you see there is something very very complicated that I'm going to have to explain in a nutshell, a-a-and you are going to be very overwhelmed when-"

"Just say it!" She barked, and then crossed her arms.

"You are Jennifer, are you not?" She spoke nothing, wondering why the hell this former Sesame Street puppet knew her name and where she lived. "I've come on a mission. It is a very long process that is useless to square with at the very moment, but you are needed in…in a place that you never ever thought existed." The two stayed silent in the mourning air. The Count kept a stern face, his fingers laced together before his long Jewish nose. But before long, Jennifer was stifling unbelievable laughter.

"Ahahah! Ahahah! AHAHAH! OH GOD! Are you kidding me! Ahah!"

"Nooo! I am not! I have come with some serious news! You must listen to me!" Just then, the Count struck his hands into his pockets and shuffled them around a bit, then held out two different pills; one blue, and the other red.

"I am taking you to an alternate reality. If you do not accept one of these pills, I will have to make you by force." The Count stated weakly. Jennifer tried her best to eye him seriously, but her lips came together stiffly like she had just sucked a lemon and vibrated as she exhaled a laugh and spat into the Count's face. The Count did not look too amused. He continued to hold the pills in front of her. "Please choose red or-" Again, she giggled. The Count scoffed a little under his breath, then inhaled deeply. "Please choose-"

"Ahahahahahah!" He paused again, hoping Jennifer was letting out the rest of her childish amusement.

"Please-"

"Pppppppppphahahahh…"

"This is ridiculous! I'm going back home!" The Count screeched. Jennifer attempted to calm her facial muscles, but they continued to contort into silly gestures and snickers that nearly choked her.

"No, no no no…" She extended her arm out, while the other fell down to her knee and she bent over to swallow and breathe. "Don't go…I'm just…" She rose to full height again, this time with her arms behind her back. "Okay. Now what was it you were asking me?" The Count didn't speak right away. He gave her a disappointed glance, and then lifted up the pills again.

"Please choose red or blue. Red will take you to the Pooptrix. It is an uncharted dimension, and the red pill allows you to enter a state of…euphoria…it will take you to the Poop-"

"Excuse me…did…did you just say…the 'Pooptrix'?"

"Well…yes, but…"

"Okay you know what? You're wasting my time. We can play Sci-Fi on ABC Family during the weekend or something."

"What?" Folds in his startled brow began to surface. But Jennifer headed off back down the driveway. Just then, the Count unleashed a desperate act. He sprung towards her and clutched her arm. It barely retracted her an inch, seeing as he only weighed about five or ten pounds, but it was enough to catch her off guard. She swung around swiftly.

"What the hell are you doing! Don't ever touch me _again_!" She shrieked, and then headed up the steps of the deck. The Count scurried behind her.

"No PLEASE! Please! Stop it! I am serious! I have tried again and again to complete this one little mission for Big Bird. You have to listen to me!" She tilted her head.

"W-w-w-what kind of drugs are you exactly on right now?" This blew the count's last straw.

"I am not on drugs!" He exploded into her face. "I am perfectly sane and all I'm asking you to do is take a freaking pill and meet me in the Pooptrix! Take the red pill! Please!" He huffed and puffed, his head turned down, while his arm elevated before her eyes, the red pill in his palm. She shook her head.

"I will not accept a pill that some puppet tried to give to me after arriving at my doorstep at 7:30 in the morning. I'm sorry, Count, but I need to pack my lunch. You've wasted ten valuable minutes." Before he could speak again, she slammed the door and did not come back, even after his desperate pleas. After several minutes, he sunk down onto the doormat and covered his face with his cape, sobbing uncontrollably and occasionally kicking the wooden panels of the deck to relieve some stress. Still, she did not respond.


	2. Chapter 2

THE POOPTRIX

A Tea Party Hell © Production  
Chapter 2

Jennifer sat on a bench in the park minding her own business. The sky was a nice shade of robin blue. It had been a week since the Count had showed up at her door, and she was starting to feel like whatever madness he was likely to have brought with him was out of the way for good. There weren't any menacing beings around the corner that would beg her to do something stupid, and furthermore, it was a weekend. She whistled and eyed the glistening lake down the hill by the flower path, until a marching figure came into view. It was a man in a trench-coat, a serious stern hawk by appearance, with a dark leather suitcase, and shiny work shoes. He stopped in front of her, and peeked out from over his shades, holding a side with his fingers. "I don't think you understand Poop." He muttered.

"What?"

"I said. I don't think you understand Poop."

"Uhm…o-"

"You don't understand _Poop_." He insisted.

"O-okay." He fumbled around in his pocket- it worried Jennifer that another set of blue and red pills were going to pop out, but instead it was a syringe. He mindlessly popped the cap and swung it towards her- digging with a single prickly feeling into her upper arm.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" Jennifer screamed. Everything faded into black- she saw the face of the man with no expression in his shade-covered eyes slip away from all light, but growing higher and higher as if her body had become rag-doll size and was plummeting to the Earth. But this was no Earth that would break her fall, it was…it was…

……………………..

She felt like a baby cradled in a bubble- sleeping soundly in a bundle of blankets. There was something of very strange texture surrounding her body, but she couldn't quite make out her surroundings with eyes closed. For some reason she was so tired; almost too lazy to open them and simply see where she was…It…it must have been at home. Yes- she was dreaming all along, and there had been no Count, no man in shades, no nothing. Those were extremely illogical things!

She gathered enough energy to slide her arm up to her face to brush away some strayed hair, but the moment it rose over her head, a goopy substance slapped onto her forehead. "AH!" This caused her to shoot her eyes open and spring up from her resting place like a jack-in-the-box, but nearly hitting her head on the glass lining of…of a sphere. The sphere was half full of this same substance- it was a mix of brown, bronze, and even olive green- different in texture, though mostly thick and liquid-like. She was seated in the middle of it, rising her hand from inside, but surfacing a clump of it between her fingers. She dropped it nervously, staring down to her lap. The only thing covering her were some scraps of fabric around her chest and thighs- they were stained and damp, and there was a smell about them. For the first time in that instance, she let the scents of her atmosphere waft through her nose- it took just a couple of moments to recognize it before she screamed in blood-curdling horror, attempting to shoot up to the side of the sphere in any attempt to get away from it. It resulted in her feet slipping loose, and a face-first splat back into it. She rose immediately, still crying so desperately it was like she was ripping her vocal cords. "GODAMNITTTTTT!! AAAAAAAAAAGGHHH!! WHAT AM I DOING HERE?! WHAT IS THIS?!" Again, with failed efforts, she scrambled up and down the walls, and all she was really doing was spreading the feces further up the glass. She realized this after it was too late, falling back into the mud-like pool and sniffling with disgust. "Oh God…What is this…" Her eyes slowly wandered up the glass, peering through a place that had yet to be splattered with her struggles. She was in an endless dome of other captured victims, all in their own separate spheres, all sleeping or searching, or screaming just as she was, but she could not hear them. Frantically, her hands beat against the glass, her screams were like calls in space. Fists continued in a rhythm- her only thought was to be free! Nausea nearly set in as she felt the clumpy liquid between her toes. With continued blows, it took her just another between a crack in the glass appeared like a sliver. In inspired her to keep at it- creating even more and more until there was a spider-web appearance to the freedom seeping inside. "Yes! Hah-yes!" She shrieked psychotically. Her knuckles pounded once more into the center of the web, and a chip of glass came loose and tumbled down the contraptions beneath her, and over other glass spheres, until finally it hurled silently into darkness. The whole grew bigger with further efforts- though the sides of her hands were now dripping with blood. It became apparent to her by the spiky edges of the hole she'd created that it would be impossible to climb out on top and see where to go. However, on the other side, she wasn't willing to sit in this pile of…of…well _you know_…any longer. She flung herself through the hole and curled into a spinning girl with hair that whipped through the hair, joining the tiny piece of glass' fate. Her eyes were closed- she didn't know what to believe anymore! With arms like a mummy's over her chest, she fell through a black sky.

She landed, with seemingly no damage under a piercing bright light in the darkness. She was no longer an escaped prisoner of feces in scraps of clothing- she had been changed again, this time suiting black stretchy pants, a pair of sleek leather boots, and a flowing leather jacket to match. Her hands ran over the various new garments of clothing, her face contorted in confusion. She shouted desperately up to the light. "WHO ARE YOU?! WHAT'S GOING ON?!" Slowly, other lights appeared around her- both near and far- there were even specks in the distance over this continued grid. The lights created large blocky shadows of buildings- all long and rectangular, with no windows or doors. Everything was in shades of grey- her eyes searched desperately through the shadows, settling with a halt on a figure stretched by a light in a far away hall. She was almost too afraid to step out of her circle of light, but decided to jump from each one to the other. The figure stayed stationary in the hall- while Jennifer approached it carefully, peering from behind a faceless building. It was still merely a silhouette, with a long pointy nose and a cigarette in hand. The smoke traveled towards her as she exposed herself from behind the corner. Still, it did not look towards her. "H-Hello?" She stepped forward. "Hello. Who are you? Where are we?" While her steps led her towards another light, it showered over his profile, and she knew immediately. "COUNT?!"

"Hello." He responded casually. She clutched her fists together.

"What do you mean 'hello'?!! Where are we?!"

"We're in the Pooptrix. Just like I told you."

"I told you I didn't want any part of this! What's going on?!! Why am I here?! Who was that guy that-"

"Silence. There will be many things that will confuse you, Jennifer. It's better to take them all without question and focus on the issue at hand."

"No! I want answers!"

"I am sorry. I honestly can't even answer most of your questions anyway. I've only been here a few times." Jennifer grunted under her breath.

"This is a real shit-hole, you know that?" She leaned against the opposite wall and stared the Count in the face. "Well?"

"Well what?" He asked apathetically while puffing the cigarette.

"You're supposed to agree with me! I am very uncomfortable right now. Don't you have any feelings about where we are?!?"

"Agh_…women and their questions…" _He shook his head tragically as a small line of smoke escaped his purple fabric lips. At this, Jennifer grew aggravated, narrowing her brow, and sauntering with a cringe towards the puppet.

"Listen, asshole, I'm not in a very good mood right now. I was already dealing with enough trouble without this Pooptrix stuff and your attitude." At this, the Count blew a raspberry.

"Yeah?! Well I'm not in a very good mood right now, either! You left me!" He yanked the cigarette from his mouth and pointed his index finger at her dramatically.

"Oh come on. You're a freak! How was I supposed to react?!" Just then he cut in with a prolonged gasp.

"HhhhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHhh! I am not a freak! I am a normal human being!"

"You're a puppet! From Transylvania! A-a-a-and you have a goatee! Those are ugly!" He clutched his goatee, gasping yet again.

"You did not just go there!"

"_Hey you two!_" A male voice shouted in the distance. The Count casually averted his eyes to behind Jennifer, while she flung her shoulders around to the disembodied voice in surprise. He was tall, lingering in and out of the lights towards them. Each time he hit them, she saw a bounce to his hair- his shoulders were slouched and his body seemed lanky. With each step closer, Jennifer's mouth dropped a little more. "How's it going?" Jennifer said nothing.

"…Josiah…uhm…" He was sporting a formal suit and necktie, and tipped a black top hat when he stopped in front of them. "W-w-w-what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to help you with your mission!" Her features grew further into a disgruntled overwhelmed contortion.

"What mission?!" He seemed surprised that she was still in the dark- he turned to the Count expectantly.

"Oh. You don't know? Well I guess we'll have to talk about it." The Count crossed his arms, sucking his face in like a hand was clutching it from the inside. "Count…do you have any ideas where to go?"

"I don't know." He spoke after a pause. "Maybe you should ask that bitch where to go. She clearly doesn't trust me since I'm such a fre-"

"Don't listen to him- he's in a grumpy mood because his tactless plan to get me here earlier failed. And I was _kidnapped_ instead and apparently have no reason to be unhappy about it!" She shrieked into Josiah's face.

"Uhm…okay…well…I guess we could go rent a room somewhere-"

"I never said you didn't have a reason to be unhappy about it! I just said that you should deal with what is happening and realize that it's not even under my control! But instead of taking my words into consideration you personally attacked me!" He laid a hand over his heart, his mouth falling to the ends of his chin in grief.

"You had it coming, and you know it-"

"I get enough of this at home!"

"Well, maybe you just make it _that_ easy to be picked on!"

"I am sensitive!"

"Uhm, excuse me." Josiah cut in. "Can we please get going?" Jennifer quickly stuck her tongue out at the Count, causing Josiah's brow to gather agitatedly. Jennifer noticed it and straightening her posture. "Okay. Uhm. Geez…just a second. I'm not very good at this." He raised his arms to the lights and closed his eyes, then twirled around girlishly. The buildings began to stretch and twist into the air, swirling into a tornado of grey hues. They landed swiftly in an apartment living room. Its colors were rich with deep red and chocolate- there were several love seats and a bar, with a plush king-size bed in the corner, surrounded with tall candles and a heart-shaped headboard. Jennifer grimaced with discontent. Josiah simply shrugged his shoulders. "Whoops. Penthouse level."

"Sure this wasn't intentional?…" She muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing." Josiah eyed her skeptically.

"Well…as long as we're here…wanna light some incense?" Jennifer wasn't sure who was the biggest creep at the moment. She contemplated inching towards the Count and holding to his arm, but simply backed up into a loveseat and seated herself awkwardly at the edge. The Count grumbled under his breath and sat at the other end. Meanwhile, Josiah skipped merrily to a cabinet by the bed, expecting a lovely selection of incense. His smile quickly wiped off his face.

"Jennifer?" She sighed heavily, crossing a leg and turning to stare at the wall.

"Yes?"

"Diarrhea or Shit'n'Roses?"

"What?!"

"The incense."

"Oh…uh…Shit'n'Roses…"

"Yeah, I know…not the best options here in the Pooptrix. But I think we'll live." He took out the wooden incense holder and set them neatly on the counter, preparing it optimistically and returning to the loveseat between Jennifer and the Count. "Sooo…" He tried to break the silence, lacing his fingers together over his lap. The two said nothing. "What've you two been up to, today?"

"Minding my own business and having my own life. Why?" Jennifer asked exasperatedly. Josiah inhaled, about to respond-

"I have my own life too, you know!"

"I don't care. Anyway-"

"Well you should. I never expected such absurd behavior from-"

"I am not acting absurdly! You're just being completely apathetic!"

"This is business, Jennifer- I-I-I can't just-"

"Business, oh yeah, right. I'm sure it is."  
"You don't even-"

"Whatever!" Jennifer crossed her arms and plunked back into the seat to intentionally block the Count with Josiah. The Count paused, his eyes dropped to his lap, but hesitantly, he turned his face towards Jennifer's direction.

"I wish I'd never come he-"

"Oh shut up, you little shit." Josiah placed a hand over his mouth and coughed nervously.


	3. Chapter 3

**THE POOPTRIX**

Chapter 3

"Uhm." Josiah voiced. "I didn't mean to start an argument between you two."

"It was coming along anyway." The Count said, and then huffed under his breath and held tightly to his arms.

"Oh-ppppt." Jennifer responded.

"Well…" Suddenly Josiah's pants began to vibrate. He shook a little and then dug around his pocket, pulling out some high-tech cell-phone. He read the screen at the top and then flipped it open. "H-Hello? Oh, hi. Yeah. We're at the hotel…Uhm. Yeah. Everything's fine. But we haven't discussed the mission yet. I'd say tell him to come in a half hour. Yeah. O-Okay. Thank you." He flipped the phone back closed again and looked back to Jennifer. "Anyway. Listen, I'll go over it with you, but we don't have much time."

"…" Though the bickering between her and the Count had temporarily distracted her, Jennifer was still confused out of her mind why she was in some place called "The Pooptrix."

"Well you see…long long ago, there was a powerful wizard who discovered, through dimensional travel, that there was a 6th dimension, one of a reality where creatures of other realities can enter and still be of the same nature. But it's just different. It's like Hogwarts. It's there, in a specific place on the planet, on its own, even if that exact place is already occupied in the real world. That is what the Pooptrix is. Plus a bunch of cool science-fiction-esque crap." Josiah eyed Jennifer, anticipating a response of sorts, but nobody on the love-seat moved an inch. "So…"

"Okay, and why do you know about this?"

"Well I realize to you it's pretty far-fetched, b-b-but I've done a lot of research. And I got an internship here as a massage therapist." He nods enthusiastically.

"…OK."

"And…Count? Why are _you_ here?" The Count seemed taken aback that Jennifer had any nerve to talk to him after the argument, but sorted through his words, shrugged his shoulders, and lent his hand out informatively.

"We've been involved with it since the 70's. I-I-It's a Sesame Street thing."

"I…see…" Just then, the Count rose from his seat.

"Do you mind if I get myself a drink?"

"Oh no… no problem, just make sure to wash your hands before you open the glass cabinet!" Josiah gleamed a peachy little grin to the sober, yet suffering, Count, but Jennifer was annoyed by his optimism.

"Am I the…_only_ one here who doesn't see how this is a good thing? You're holding me hostage! I'm supposed to be in school right now! I don't want to be in this giant anus known as a dimension. I want to go _home_!"

"I'm sorry, Jennifer." Josiah voiced.

"You _will_ be sorry if we don't get this over with soon enough." He gulped and loosened the collar of his turtle neck under the leather jacket.

--- --- ---

Not long after, there was a knock on the penthouse door. Jennifer and Josiah were still sitting awkwardly on the love-seat, but simultaneously darted towards the door, and entering was a short stocky boy with a striped polo shirt and jeans. He also had a sports bag flung over his shoulder. "Hi. I'm Steven Kulp. But you can call me Asshole-Guy." He said. Jennifer wondered if that was some kind of crude nickname, or if he really was a jerk. Josiah extended his arm out to shake "Asshole-Guy's" hand, but the startled expression on his face suggested he was a tad disgusted. He kept his arms to his sides. "Anyway…" Josiah awkwardly retracted his hand. "Are you Jennifer? I'm here to help you."

"Yeah…uh…"

"Please. Don't speak. We must get busy." He dashed past the two of them and unloaded the bag on the love-seat. Inside was a clipboard, some jump-ropes, and Frisbees of all different colors. "Okay, Jennifer. I'm your personal trainer, alright? I'm here to teach you the ways of Frisbee."

"…I'm sorry…_what_?"

"Frisbee."

"Y-y-yeah I heard you, but what-" He shot to Josiah hastily.

"You didn't tell her?" Jennifer looked like she was about to foam at the mouth.

"Why are you keeping all this from me?! What?! What is _SERIOUSLY _going on?!"

"You're entering a Frisbee tournament, Jennifer." Asshole-Guy flatly uttered. Just then, a wobbling puppet wandered over from the drink-bar.

"'Ello everybody! What is going on with you guyses-…" He nearly stumbled into Jennifer but she shoved him back.

"_Count_," she said with labor, "how many drinks did you have?" He lifted a finger and twirled around.

"I only wanted a couple drinks, and I said '_ONE!_ One shot of vodka, _TWO_! Two shots of vodka, and before I knew it, _ELEVEN!_ _FOURTEEN! TWENTY-FOUR!!! _Twenty four shots of vodka! Ah-Ah-Ah!" As the Count lifted his head back he collapsed on the floor and continued to giggle to himself. Jennifer, Josiah, and Asshole-Guy crowded together and witnessed with pity his drunken antics, then took a moment to regain themselves, and with silence, agreed to step out into the hallway where his utterances were muffled behind the door.

"What do you people _do_ around here, anyway?!"

"It's not what you think, Mr. Kulp. Honestly. The Count is just having some personal problems." Josiah informed him. Asshole-Guy gave him and Jennifer a few offensive glances and looked around.

"Well…we really need to get down to business."

"Yes, I realize that, but…"

"Listen. We'll go to the buffet. It'll be a perfect place to sit down and sort this all through…since apparently this shit-fuck here has failed to do his job." Josiah cowered a little and his face fell to the floor.

--- --- ---

They seated themselves at the end of a long table in the buffet room next to the hotel lobby. Asshole-Guy was apparently a little hungry, because he started at the end of the food table and took a paper plate, poking with tongs into various baskets and dishes. "Uh…"

"Yeah yeah, just hold on…" He put some spherical melon scoops and a couple pieces of cinnamon bread onto the plate and sat back down. "Yeah sorry, I didn't have lunch yet."

"Heh…" Josiah was still pretty quiet after all the threatening. Asshole-Guy stuffed some bread into his mouth.

"Okay, uhm," he got out through chews, "So…are you familiar with Pooptrix government?" Jennifer shook her head with a mindless expression on her face. "The Order of the Anus?" She shook again. "Uh…The Great Judicial Excrements Plan of 6th Dimensional Compliance?" A line of drool escaped the crack of Jennifer's mouth. "Oh my…we have a long way to go."

So Asshole-Guy began explaining the ins and outs of Pooptrix society, including the past few presidents and their accomplishments, and Poop-related massacres of the 19th and 20th centuries. Jennifer was in ways instantly fascinated with this, but still a little repulsed.

"So it's being taken over…by gangs."  
"Yes. Lots of gangs."

"Okay, but I don't understand why that means I need to save the Pooptrix."

"Ok, Jennifer. Listen. You are _not_ saving the Pooptrix."

"…Good."

"You're saving the whole world."

"Pffft. Do you have any idea how cliché that sounds?"

"Yes, I know. But I'm being serious. You have to save the world."

"Yes, Jennifer. Please, listen to Mr. Kulp."

"I TOLD you, my name is Asshole-Guy, you piece of shit."

"…I was just trying to be respectful."

"_NO._ You were just trying to be a fucking douche-bag." Josiah cowered a little again.  
"Ok LISTEN, Asshole-Guy. Just answer me this. Why…does the world depend…on an 18-year-old girl?"  
"…It…that's just how it…" She crossed her arms and waited for a legitimate response, but when it never came, she started marching back into the lobby towards the doors. "JENNIFER, WAIT!" She flung herself around and stared at him. "Let me explain, godamnit! I don't know why it's you that has to do it, but you do! And if you cared about anyone besides yourself-"  
"Pfff."

"Fine. You want the whole world to explode? Be my guest." She breathed heavily and stared at the two of them, Josiah giving silent support to Asshole-Guy.  
"Ok. Let's say…hypothetically… I did your little training program… and saved the world, playing Frisbee." She paused. They leaned forward in anticipation. "…How long is it gonna take?"  
"Uh… I really don't… uh… three weeks, maybe?"  
"And when would we train?"   
"Soon as my morning business is done. Probably about ten to noon." Suddenly Jennifer stopped and thought.  
"Ten to noon… that means…you can get me out of Life Sports."

"What?"

"10:00 TO 11:37!! Life Sports! You can get me out of Life Sports!!!"  
"Well, I guess-"

"I'm IN." Asshole-Guy glanced at Josiah and they both shrugged.  
"Are you being serious or sarcastic?" He asked. Jennifer danced around a bit.  
"Seriously!!"  
"Well, okay. Good. Just let me go over a few ground rules." They started up the stairs, and Josiah trailed behind.

When they returned to the penthouse, it was dead silent, the tips of the incense still excreting trails of smoke, and a figure in black was sprawled out over the canopy with its arms flung over the side. They quietly entered the room and closed the door, tiptoeing towards the love-seat to sit down again. Jennifer approached the bed. "…Count?" He remained, with his face turned into the mattress. "…Count? Are you all right?" She poked him in the back a few times, then turned to Josiah and Asshole-Guy. "He's passed out."  
"Well no shit, Jennifer." Asshole-Guy replied.

"Yeah. Even _I _know how to recognize _that_." Jennifer seemed a little offended, but shrugged her shoulders and sat down at the end of the bed.

"Well, Jennifer. We can only take this days at a time. I think it's time to call it a night."

"_Night?_"

"Yeah, it's probably around five or six right now. Time goes by fast in the Pooptrix." Jennifer said nothing. "So I'll just leave this stuff there until tomorrow." Asshole-Guy concluded. He left the penthouse indifferently. Josiah and Jennifer's eyes glanced at the Count, and then rose to each other's questioningly.

"Do we just…leave him here?" Jennifer asked.

"I guess it couldn't hurt." Jennifer was pretty sure that it could hurt, but somehow didn't care, so they flipped off the lights and left the penthouse.


	4. Chapter 4

**THE POOPTRIX**

**Chapter 4**

Jennifer rolled over in her bed and shielded her eyes from the sunlight breaking through her window. Half awake, half asleep, her dream's visions seeping through the cieling, she shook like a motherfucker when suddenly the phone rang. Her eyes passed over some electronic numbers, only one which she remembered to be a six. She didn't know who it was, what they wanted, or why so damn early, but she slid across the mattress and snatched the phone from the table. "H-hello?"  
"You left me." An angry accented voice spat out. Surely, this was part of her dream.

"_Mmmm?" _  
"Hey! Wake up! If I were there, I would slap you..._beetch!"_ Suddenly she realized who was talking to her.  
"_Count?"_

"You LEFT me!" He repeated with even more fury.  
"Oh...yeah...I did." Jennifer curled back onto her bed and laid with her eyes closed and the phone in her uncovered ear.

"Well, what have you got to say for yourself?!"  
"Count, why the _hell_ are you...calling me so...early...? Ughhh."  
"_I'm _going to _kick_ your ass!" At this point, she was so tired out by the exchange, she dropped the phone to the floor, switched positions, and fell back asleep until her alarm went off around 7:20.

She noticed the phone, lying off the hook and placed it back on the stand, then wandered into the bathroom to brush her teeth. It was the first deed of her ritualistic morning, and it helped her wake up. As she spread the toothpaste and started brushing, she realized what had happened not long before, and the previous afternoon. The Count must've been pretty dumbfounded and lost... she also wondered what might've happened to him when he got home, despite not knowing a lot about his situation. With a little bit of guilt, she returned to the phone after cleaning up and dialed 69. Once she retrieved and called the number, she heard many many ring sounds, but no answer, or voice mail. "Blah," she thought.

By the time she was in school, taking the same annoyed, tired, Monday-walk to the English classroom, she was truly dealing with an unfamiliar, noticable settling at the bottom of her stomach known as guilt. She entered the classroom, set her stuff down, took out her folder, and sat at her desk like she was off in a trance. That little puppet was seriously pissed at her. Maybe she was just more alarmed by the fact that she was even in a fight _with a puppet_. And of all puppets, a creepy one from her childhood that she thought didn't exist outside of a television show. It was...so... Where the hell did he even come from?

English went by just as it would have any other day, but when she walked into the gymnasium, she realized that Asshole-Guy would be coming to get her, but wasn't scheduled to until 10:00, a half hour from then. She hesitantly came to the locker room, decided not to dress down, stalled even going to class in the first place...I mean why not just skip class and go wait at the front of the school... then she had a great idea. She was eighteen for Christ's sake.

She casually entered a bathroom stall while the other girls were heading out, took out some notepaper and a pen, and wrote that she had to leave early for...an orthodontist appointment. _"I can't believe I'm doing this._" She whispered to herself. Jennifer was annoyed with school, hated with a passion several classes of the past and present, and always dreamed of doing something daring, but was a surprisingly goody-goody student that kept her mouth shut and her record clean.

Mr. Cerny stared at the note for a moment, as if he might've figured out her secret, then nodded with genuine belief across his face and she sprinted off with wide eyes. Still holding the note in her hands in anticipation of someone else popping out and asking what she was doing, she hurried down the hall and pretended to look completely calm when she walked out the front doors. After a quick look at her cellphone, she noted that it was 9:42, so she had some time to wait and settled down with her ipod.

By 9:57 she was listening to Go Monkey Go by Devo, thinking at any moment, Asshole-Guy would pull up in front.

By 10:08 he was still missing.

Finally by 10:15 he showed up in a crappy looking maroon chevrolette, staring at her like nothing was wrong. She came right up to the passenger's seat window and glared at him, then hopped in the car. There wasn't any dialogue whatsoever as he pulled out of the parking area and started up the street. Then finally, "you're extremely late."  
"10 minutes, pff."  
"Fifteen."

"Wanna fight about it? That'll accomplish something."

"Jesus, why are you such an asshole?" Jennifer asked somewhat stupidly. He glanced in her direction and raised his eyebrows, then put on his blinker and made a turn. "Ok. But really. What kept you?"

"I'm a busy guy."

"What're you, a couple years older than me?"  
"That doesn't mean anything. I'm busy, and I have a life. Just 'cause you don't doesn't mean others can't."  
"Well what do you do?"  
"I'm in marketing. Part-time personal trainer. But that's obvious because I'm training you."

"You don't look like a personal trainer. Well I mean-"

"What-"

"N-noth-"

"What IS it."  
"It's really no-"  
"Spit it out!-"

"You're chubby!" There was a long silence.

"..._Yeah._ Doesn't mean I don't know how to get others in shape."

"O-ok. And I understand that. And there's nothing wrong with being chubby, really. I think it suits you." She realized what an awkward comment that was as soon as she said it. Asshole-Guy chose not to respond.

They pulled up in front of a 24 Hour Fitness and Jennifer followed Asshole-Guy inside. He flashed them a business card and they entered a weight-lifting room. Jennifer was not so happy that she'd escaped Life Sports for essentially the same concept, even if all the 'tards in her class were gone, and it was, instead of necessary because of the school cirriculum being designed by a bunch of fucks, necessary because she needed to save the world. She shrugged and waited for Asshole-Guy to initiate the session. He was busy setting his stuff down and surveying the different work-out equiptment. After a few more moments, he swiptly turned around to Jennifer who was sitting on a chair staring at him.

"The Count gave me a ring this morning." He started sternly, then bursted in laughter. "He's not a very happy little fella'."

"Heh, yeah, I figured." Asshole-Guy notioned for Jennifer to sit down on a mat across the floor and they did some leg strenches.  
"You and that douche really shouldn't have left him in the room."

"Yeah, but what was I seriously supposed to do? He was passed out, practically a stranger to me, I was mad at him, and...I..." Asshole-Guy suddenly had an expression on his face as he ran his hand down his right shin. Jennifer couldn't fully interpret it as she did the same, and it made her uncomfortable. "Well.. didn't he just wake up and leave?"

"Oh, I'm sure he did. But...well you know." He sat up and stretched his arms up above his head.  
"Know what." They fell abruptly after. Jennifer, who mimicked him, returned them to her lap as well.   
"Heh, look. I don't know him so well. But I unfortuately spoke to Josiah since yesterday. He was concerned about him too, and then he let me in on all the crap he knows about him."

"Yeah...he mentioned something about his friends being mean to him when I met him...but...I don't really know any of the specifics-"

"Big Bird." He suddenly uttered. "He's a gang leader. Feared leader. You seriously didn't know this shit?" Jennifer shook her head. "The shift of the 21st century was rough for him. Their contract went down the toilet. Him and the others have been living it rough for a while now. It wasn't until the last couple years that they started drug-trafficking in the Pooptrix, and had bounties on all their heads. The Count doesn't seem like the kind of guy to support that kind of stuff. But he's still with 'em."

"...Why doesn't he just leave?"

"It's tough. It's a gang. Those are his blood brothers. I think this mission's gonna be his escape or something."  
"Wait, they don't even have blood."  
"Fine, thread brothers."  
"So you think he was in some deep shit when he eventually came home."

"Oh, I know so." They did some crunches and Asshole-Guy paused. "You really should have tried to wake him up."

"Poor little guy."

"Tchhh."

"Well, he was just such a little shit."

"The whole world is little shits. You gotta make do."

"Pfff."

"Anyway, go get on that exercycle."

"K."

The work-out session with Asshole-Guy was surprisingly pleasent. They finished up in the gym, Asshole-Guy gave her a list of easy exercizes to do while at home, and he drove her back to school just minutes before lunch ended, playfully teasing each other the entire way.

She was pissed that he hadn't given her any opportunity to eat. Her stomach was growling in Japanese and by Marine Biology things weren't looking much better. Her lunch was _right there_ in her bag, but Mr. Isensee was a strict fellow, and there just wasn't a time or place when she could take something out.

To make matters worse, they were wrapped up in a pointless, annoying, class-length writing exercize in Writer's Workshop, and she had no time to talk to Josiah. They glanced at each other awkwardly, knowing somehow that the other had things on their minds...but nothing could ever transpire.

- - -

She called him once she was in the kitchen after just arriving home. "Josiah?"  
"Hey. What's up?"

"I need to talk to you. Listen. I worked out with Asshole-Guy today."  
"Well that's good."  
"He told me about the Count's situation."  
"I know, I know, and we shouldn't have left him. ...I thought if anything he'd stay there overnight, or come back unnoticed, but there were details I just didn't know." Jennifer frowned.  
"He's like...seriously so mad at-"

"Oh, I know. He's staying at my house right now."

"What?!"

"Yeah, he showed up this morning and asked if he could stay here a while. I mean I don't know him so well and he doesn't know me, but we're all he's got in this world."  
"You mean _you_."

"What?" Josiah sounded offended, almost.  
"Ohoho, I'm not that thing's friend."  
"Jennifer, that's so heartless of you." He stated self-rightiously. "He might be weird and ugly but he's very alone! Besides, he was hurt."  
"What?"  
"He wouldn't explain why, but I have a pretty good idea. I gave him some aspirin and set him up on the couch before I left for school... he's just been sitting there looking empty since I got back."  
"Blah. Hey wait a second. Why isn't he mad at you?! You left him just the same as I did."

"He was upset with me when he first showed up. But I explained my reasoning and he let it go."

"Well what about _me?!_"

"He said he was sure you didn't have any reasoning and just didn't care."

"Oh pffff."

"Jennifer, look, I... I'm in the bathroom right now. He doesn't even want to hear or see anything that has to do with you so when I got the call, I hid from him. He might be suspicious now."

"Ok. Well have fun. ... _taking care of an angry puppet._"

"I think you should come here and straighten this out."

"NO. I'm sick of his shit. He totally brings it all on himself."

"Actually, I think you're being quite rude to him."

"Oh shut up, Josiah." Jennifer was getting sick of talking to this dork. She wanted him only to be that guy in her writing class, and now they were forced to team up in some Pooptrix shit with a group of puppets and a chubby guy in striped polos. Actually, Asshole-Guy was looking to be her least bothersome new friend. "Ok, look." She reconsidered. "I'm just having a really hard time swallowing all this. I'll visit the Count. But you wanna know something? He owes me. Big time. I don't know how or why he came to the conclusion that I needed to win a Frisbee tournament to stop gangs in another dimension, but I'm out doing it." She felt good saying all this to Josiah. "He doesn't have to like me. But he should save his behavior, which is the equivelent of a preteen girl on PMS, for people who _aren't_ saving his life, and who might actually have time to care."  
"Alright. I see where you're coming from."

"Good. I'll be there at four."

At four, there was a knock on the door. Josiah cautiously passed the Count and stood there for a moment, then greeted Jennifer. The Count, even with his back turned, seemed to sense her presence and remain completely still. They closed the door and Jennifer almost nervously entered his field of vision and sat down on a wooden chair Josiah handed to her from the dining table. The Count's face was all scrunched up in his stubbornness, bruised, with a patch over his eye. His clothes were also wrinkled and asymmetrical. Jennifer had no idea what to say except "I'm sorry." The Count didn't respond. "Really. Really really sorry. I didn't know that your friends were gang members and you never told me. If you were anybody else, I would've assumed you would wake up when you weren't drunk off your ass and went home."  
"But I'm not anybody else! I'm a defenseless puppet, abused by my only friends!"

"THAT ISN'T MY FAULT!" Jennifer bursted.  
"Look at me!" He cried. "They b-b-beat me!" For the first time, Jennifer felt a pinch of sympathy, but still didn't see how it was her fault.

"You should have TOLD us."  
"I was drunk!"

"You got YOURSELF drunk!"

"Fuck you!" He rose from the couch. Josiah quickly restrained him before he launched himself at Jennifer. "Fuck you, beetch! Fuck you! You don't know me! You don't know what I have to go through! You don't know how tempting it is!"

"Calm down, Count!" Josiah pleaded.  
"No! Why don't you calm down?! Why don't you stop worrying about a pointless pawn in this dangerous mission and off me now?! Where is the aspirin?!"

"What?!" The Count continued to kick and wriggle under Josiah's grasp.

"Where's the aspirin?! I'll take it all! I'll take it all! AGHHH!" Jennifer sat with wide eyes as the Count and Josiah struggled. They just kept struggling and struggling and the Count was kicking and screaming...it was insane to her. The Count was NOT right. He abruptly rose from the chair and clenched her fists.

"HEY. HEYY!!!"  
"Kill me, please, kill meeee!!"

"YOU GUYSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" They both stared at her. "STOP IT! I DON'T WANT TO FIGHT! I DON'T HATE YOU, COUNT, AND I MEAN IT, I'M SORRY! I WOULD **NOT** DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT TO YOU IF I KNEW THE CONSEQUENCES. I DON'T **WANT** YOU TO GET HURT! ALL I WANT TO DO IS SAVE THE POOPTRIX AND GET THIS OVER WITH! MAYBE WE'LL EVEN LEARN TO BE FRIENDS. I DON'T KNOW. BUT IT'S JUST IMMATURE TO ARGUE ABOUT A BUNCH OF PETTY BULLSHIT. I WAS WRONG. I WAS WRONG. I WAS WRONG!!!" Jennifer inhaled and exhaled profusely to regain herself. Josiah's wide black irises just froze on her until he felt his hands coming loose on the Count's wrists. The Count, with a trembling lip and an expression that of a confused little infant, slid off the couch, waddled up, and clutched Jennifer by her legs. She felt extremely..._extremely_ uncomfortable. Traumatized. But he seemed to forgive her.


End file.
